


The Story of Twelve and Fourteen

by nhpw, telera



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Enemas, Family, Fucking Machines, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Kink, Mind Games, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Revenge, Sexual Slavery, Violence, sam and ed are daddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ed are kidnapped by a Slave Trade mafia, and make a dreadful enemy in one Dr. Alan Bradley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘And this is _Twelve_ ’.

 

The curtain was suddenly drawn and a doctor stepped in. He had to be in his mid-fifties, had white hair and was followed by a group of medical students. Ed, who had been lying prone on the bed for what felt like hours, tensed and struggled against the padded restraints around his wrists and ankles.

 

‘Help’ he muttered as he felt the hospital gown shifting and exposing even more his naked rear.

 

‘This is an interesting case’ the old doctor said looking at the clipboard ‘He was brought in with last night’s raid, and was auctioned immediately. His Master lives in Australia, so he’ll be shipped with the rest tomorrow morning’.

 

Ed’s head was spinning, and his heart was beating fast. Last night. Last night he’d been having a drink at  _Mario’s_.

 

‘Now’ the old doctor said pushing his wired-brimmed glasses up his nose ‘His Master cannot be bothered to break him in, he has specified he wants the boy fully stretched and ready when he is delivered. So, it falls on us to achieve it’ he raised an eyebrow at his students ‘How would you do it?’

 

‘Rectal dilators’ a student said.

 

‘We don’t have enough time to go through the whole set’ another chimed in.

 

‘I say we fist him’ that was another voice.

 

‘And risk internal tearing? His Master would have us sued for damaging his property’.

 

‘Plugs, beginning  _now’_  the first voice said and a different one added ‘Inflatable?’.

 

There was a brief discussion regarding whether the plugs should be inflatable or not, and then the gravel voice of the old doctor put some order in the meeting.

 

‘Gentlemen, please. This boy has to be in Sidney in less than eighteen hours. That means we’ll only have him here a couple of hours. The procedures you’ve mentioned are not valid for our time frame. Any other suggestion?’

 

The students fell silent, and that’s when Ed broke down and started weeping. He felt like he was going to piss himself and vomit from fear, but in the end his body set for a low whimper and hot tears.

 

‘Please’ he begged 'Please, help me’.

 

That seemed to call the old doctor’s attention, for he bent forward until he was eye-level with Ed.

 

‘Hush, hush’ he said caressing Ed’s hair ‘I’m here to help you’.

 

‘Please’ Ed pleaded, feeling as tears and snot ran down his face ‘I shouldn’t be here… I… There’s been a huge mistake’.

 

The doctor smiled warmly.

 

‘Denial is always to be expected’ he said to his students ‘But they all eventually accept their fate. One way or another’.

 

‘Dr. Bradley' a student said 'Maybe we could…’

 

Suddenly there was a great uproar in the next curtain, and a young voice started to yell obscenities.

 

‘Get off me, you bastards! I’m not _Fourteen_ , my name is Sam Flynn!’

 

The doctor and his students left quickly, and one of them drew the curtain shut behind him. Ed couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard everything.

 

‘What is going on here?’ the old doctor asked ‘I will have no screaming in my Procedure Room’.

 

‘Fuck you, you sick bast-’

 

The voice was promptly muffled, and Ed could only hear some quick steps and wild thrashing.

 

‘You want him sedated, Dr.Bradley?’ a female voice asked.

 

‘No’ he replied, and his voice dripped with disgust. After a moment he continued in his calmed, teaching voice ‘ _Fourteen_ is one of the very few exceptions we’ve ever had. A recalcitrant slave, he’s been returned to us three times already. Obviously, his remedial treatment needs to be longer and harder than before. Any suggestions?’

 

Through the curtain, Ed saw many hands in the air.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘A punishment enema. 3 quarts minimum, with a double balloon nozzle. He should retain it for at least an hour’.

 

‘Good’ Dr. Bradley said 'That will bring him down a notch to begin with. Why don't you take care of him? Somehow I feel _Fourteen_ has become more interesting than _Twelve_ ’.

 

There was some light chuckling, then the wheeling sound of a stretcher? hospital bed? being rolled away.

 

When the curtain was drawn again, Ed’s stomach turned to icy water.

 

‘Dr. Bradley, please’ he began ‘You have to help me’.

 

‘I’m about to’ the old doctor replied taking something out of his pocket.

 

‘No, I mean…’ Ed licked his lips ‘I run a software company… My family is pretty rich… Please, let me go. I’ll give you anything you want’.

 

That made the doctor laugh.

 

‘My poor boy’ he said sliding a stool up to the end of the bed ‘Right now, our men upstairs are deleting your identity. Your credit cards, Social Security Number, Driving License… In a few minutes, it will be as if you had never been born. So, you have  _nothing’_.

 

Alan looked at the panicked face of the boy and smiled.

 

‘But don’t worry. They’ll create a new identity for you in Sidney. When you get there, you’ll begin a whole new life. A happier one. You’ll see’.

 

‘But- What-’ Ed started, but the doctor pulled the hospital gown open, leaving him thoroughly exposed. Ed struggled again with the padded cuffs, and that earned him a hard slap to his bottom.

 

‘Sure you don’t want to make a fuss like _Fourteen_ , right, _Twelve_? That would be… unfortunate’.

 

Ed heard a latex glove snapping and felt his stomach lurching.

 

‘What… What are you going to do… to me?’

 

‘Just what your Master requires’ Alan replied, and Ed felt him sitting down between his stretched legs ‘My students got it almost right. You need a plug. But a very special one. This one. See?’

 

Ed craned his neck to see a black, mushroom like thing in the doctor’s hand.

 

‘It’s an anal stretching ring. Made of aluminum. Very light, very durable. It’s pretty much like a plug, but hollow inside. It’s designed to be worn 24/7, so you’ll be permanently stretched. Actually, you won’t be able to clench your little hole shut again. And your Master will be able to fuck your through it. Fun, uh?’

 

Ed panicked when a cold, wet feeling spread down his crack. He was on the verge of tears again, and tried to escape from the doctor’s probing finger.

 

‘It's a pity I have to use this desensitizing lube’ the doctor said apologetically ‘But we don’t have much time, and this beauty is two inches and a half wide. Take a deep breath’.

 

Luckily for Ed, he didn’t feel much of the process. At first there was one finger, then another, but then the anesthetic numbed him for good. After what felt like a full hour, the doctor patted his bottom again.

 

‘Perfect. All stretched and ready. You’ve been a very good boy, _Twelve_. Very good’.

 

Ed was about to say something when the students appeared again.

 

‘Wow, look at that!’

 

‘What a fuckhole’.

 

‘I never would have thought of that’.

 

‘Indeed, gentlemen’ Alan said ‘You’ll be detracted ten points for not solving this case. How’s _Fourteen_ doing?’

 

‘He fainted’.

 

‘And we considered that was cheating’.

 

‘So we waited until he came to and began again. He’s still retaining it’.

 

‘Good’ Alan said ‘Now, we need to move to the remaining patients…’

 

‘Dr. Bradley, please’ an eager voice said ‘Can we have some fun with _Twelve_ here? We promise we won’t tell’.

 

‘Yes, please’ a chorus of voices said.

 

Alan sighed. His students didn’t deserve it, but they were all flushed and hard from the morning’s activities. They’ll be of no use to him with a hard on, and their day was going to be long and exhausting. Better if they took a break now.

 

‘Alright, but clean him out when you’re done. If his Master sees his boy’s ass full of cum we’ll be in trouble’.

 

‘Yes, doctor!’

 

Alan saw the boy's eyes brimming with tears as he drew the curtain to give his students some privacy. He then left the Procedure Room and thought about stretching his legs for a while, but then he realized he also deserved a break. As he whistled a happy tune down the corridor, Alan decided to pay _Fourteen_ a little visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Bradley visits _Fourteen_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fully written by [nhpw](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw). All credit goes to her ^^

“ _Fourteen_.” The boy flinches, but he does look up, and that pleases Dr. Bradley very much. He smiles and touches the boy’s hair, stroking the softness with a slow, soothing touch. “Ah. It finally suits you to accept your fate, does it?”

“Hurts,” the boy whimpers, and Dr. Bradley chuckles softly as he continues a rhythmic stroking of the boy’s hair.

“I’m sure it does. That was the point, after all.” He moves away from the boy’s head and runs a whisper of a touch over his back, left ass check, left thigh. “But we have a problem, _Fourteen_ , or more to the point, you have a problem. You see… you have been returned to us three times. Three times, by three different Masters who found you too unruly to handle. You’re labeled all kinds of things now, _Fourteen_ … ‘trouble’, for a start. ‘Challenging’ is something else I’ve heard them say. But… ‘untrainable’, that’s the big one. And it puts me in quite a spot, you see, because untrainable slaves – slaves who refuse to the point of endangering themselves and their Masters; slaves who are loud and obtrusive and even under punishment refuse to submit… well, they earn themselves a different kind of label. They become ‘undesirable.’ And that’s what some consider you now, _Fourteen_. They won’t pay a high price for you. They don’t want you. You’re beautiful, but the more trouble you cause, the less desirable you become… and undesirable slaves, _Fourteen_ … do you know what becomes of them?” The boy gives a tiny shake of his head. Pain is obvious in every tense muscle, every raised vein, but most of all in his face. Dr. Bradley studies the face, unblinking as he answers his own question. “They’re executed,” he says bluntly, without emotion. “The lucky ones get a bullet to the back of the head. The unlucky ones are tortured and beaten and raped and publicly humiliated. Their suffering is prolonged for hours, days… longer, sometimes, if they’ve been particularly a lot of trouble. And that, _Fourteen_ , is the fate that now stares you in the face. You will die. Tomorrow, next week, next year… doesn’t matter. And they’ll bury you in a shallow grave, and you’ll be forgotten just as quickly. Unless…” He pretends to consider an option, but in truth, he’s already made up his mind. What he really wants is to give all of this a chance to sink in for the boy. “I will buy you. I will purchase you for an obscenely low price and take you home with me. I can save your life, if you’ll let me. If only you’ll persuade me that you’re worth my trouble. That you’re still... any good.” He allows one steady beat to pass between them, sees just a glint of fire in the boy’s eyes. Then he steps back and removes his lab coat, and then opens his trousers. He stands on a stool so as to place his erection directly in front of the boy’s face. No instruction is given; it’s not necessary, not for this one.

Dr. Bradley waits until a warm, eager mouth is wrapped around his hardness; waits until he’s let out a long, low moan of approval at the familiar feel of this boy’s tongue; waits until he sees the first tears of acceptance slide down the boy’s cheeks to release the enema - which only completes the humiliation for the slave, Alan supposes, but it doesn’t matter. Then he returns to stroking the hair of his new slave as he forces his engorged cock to the back of the boy’s throat. He gags a bit, but not from inexperience - oh no. The thought almost makes Alan laugh out loud. No, not inexperience. Probably just surprise.

After the boy has swallowed his cum, Dr. Bradley dresses again and circles him, considering the possibilities. Some initial training will definitely be necessary to bring him firmly into submission, and he briefly wishes he’d saved that little device he used on Twelve… but no. The stretching certainly won’t be necessary.

He fingers the boy’s asshole with one curious digit, frowns at the tightness. “Was I the last one to fuck you, _Fourteen_? Really? You’ve done yourself no favors by denying the others.”

He checks the boy’s restraints and flits about absently, patting the pockets of his lab coat. He finds what he’s looking for in the left front pocket of his trousers – not fancy, but it’ll do. “An inch in diameter. We both know you can handle this for four hours while I finish out my shift.” He inserts it rather unceremoniously, noting that the boy barely flinches.

He needs to return to his rounds, and so Dr. Bradley stands and crosses the room, walking away from the boy. He’s nearly out the door when he hears it – barely audible, but it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Sam Flynn.”

He turns and narrows his eyes at the boy, one hand on the doorknob. “What was that, _Fourteen_?”

“My name,” comes the hoarse reply. The boy coughs, and his eyes burn into Dr. Bradley’s. “My name is Sam Flynn.”

There’s a long, long still moment, as though someone has hit the “pause” button on their little scene. In truth, Dr. Bradley is sizing up his prize, and he knows that for possibly the first time, the gesture is being returned in kind. He stays tense, keeps his eyes narrowed, doesn’t move a muscle in that pause. The boy has nothing else to say, so it’s on Dr. Bradley to make the next move, and he does, with a decisive tap of his fingers against the metal doorknob. “I look forward to the challenge, _Fourteen_ ,” he says, and then turns and leaves without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks go to [nhpw](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw) for writing and editing this chapter; for reading and betaing the rest of the story and for her many insightful comments *hugz*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ed escape the Slave Trade mafia and begin a new life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [telera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/telera)

The postman smiled at the little boy who warily opened the fence of the house at the end of the road.

‘ _Tengo un paquete aquí para… los señores Ed y Sam Smith_.’

The boy frowned at the postman, taking in his big bag and the uniform cap. Then he turned his head and called:

‘Papa, there’s a parcel for you and dad!’

A man appeared on the porch of the house. He was a thin brunette with short hair and thick glasses. He had a stubbled chin which showed a few white hairs here and there, and he was nicely tanned. He was probably in his early forties, and wore dark blue jeans and a short sleeved white shirt.

 _‘¿El señor Smith?_ ’ the postman asked ‘ _Por favor, firme aquí_ ’.

Ed signed while the boy stood on tiptoes and gave little jumps to see the parcel better.

‘What is it, papa? Where is it from?’

‘I don’t know, Flynn. We’ll open it after lunch, OK? _Gracias’_ he said to the postman, and closed the fence behind him.

‘ _Buenos días, señor_ ’ the postman said, and walked up the road to where he had left his bicycle.

‘But why can’t we open it _now_?’ the little boy insisted as he climbed up the three steps leading to the ample porch of the house.

‘Open?’ a blond man asked as he appeared with a big tray from the kitchen ‘Open what?’

He was probably the same age as the brunette, but a loosely trimmed goatee and disheveled hair made him look younger. He was wearing shorts and a white T-shirt with the logo of the Boca Juniors football team.

‘Daddy, a parcel just came in and papa won’t let me see it. _El muy boludo_ ’.

Sam left the tray on the garden table and frowned at the boy.

‘Don’t you ever call papa that again, do you hear me, Flynn? I’ll have to talk with your friends about those words, because I don’t like them. Is it clear?’

The boy sat in one of the bamboo chairs around the table and grumbled under his breath as he crossed his arms stubbornly.

‘I want to see the parcel’ he pouted as Sam poured some lemonade in his glass and served him a spoonful of the cold pasta salad he had prepared.

‘After lunch’ Ed reminded him ‘And you better eat it all up or there won’t be any dessert’.

The four year old made a face, but picked the fork and stabbed a few rotini noodles.

Ed entered the house and left the parcel on the living room table. He didn’t have to read the sender’s address to know who had sent it, but he read it nonetheless, smiling at the tentative, trembling handwriting and caressing the words with his thumb:

 

María Cecilia Maura Hernández

Calle tercera, Cuauhtémoc. Tijuana.

22000 Mexico

 

‘Ed, lunch is getting _warm_!’

Ed smiled sadly and sighed, stroking the rough surface of the brown parcel one last time. Then he came out to the porch, where little Flynn was now playing with the peas Sam had added to the salad.

‘Papa, I don’t like peas’ he tried, knowing full well that if he was going to get some help, it would have to come from Ed.

‘Eat a few, OK?’ Ed negotiated as he cracked a can of beer open.

‘Five’ Flynn quickly said, and Sam rolled up his eyes.

‘Make it ten and you’ll get chocolate ice cream later. What do you say?’

Little Flynn nodded happily, and he pushed one stray pea on to his fork with his fingers.

‘And then you say he doesn’t eat enough veggies’ Sam murmured under his breath.

‘Let him be’ Ed whispered, and ate a forkful of noodles.

Lunch progressed uneventfully. It was a hot day for November, and they had decided to have lunch outside. The garden was quiet and peaceful, and only a few cicadas buzzed constantly in the trees. When the pasta was over and Flynn was busy dipping his spoon in the second bowl of ice cream, Sam asked:

‘Is it from her?’

Ed smiled, and that was his only answer.

‘Who is she?’ Flynn suddenly asked ‘My mommy?’

Sam and Ed both looked at their four year old son wide eyed. Flynn was growing fast, and he was a pretty clever, active boy who made more and more questions with each passing day. They would soon have to talk to him about his adoption, but they had been advised to wait until the boy was five years old, and to answer any and all questions until then as naturally as possible.

‘No, not your mom’ Sam replied looking at Ed, who nodded minutely ‘Cecilia is an old friend of ours. She lives in Mexico’.

Flynn licked his lips as a drop of melted chocolate ice cream slid down his chin. He seemed to think about that new bit of information, then blurted out:

‘And why is she sending you a parcel?’

Sam relaxed at the turn the conversation was taking, and so did Ed, who  cleaned Flynn’s chin with a napkin.

‘Because she… We lived in her house many years ago’.

Flynn thought again for a little while, then his brow creased.

‘Why? You didn’t have a home?’

Ed’s bottom lip trembled slightly- just a little tremor, _there_ , for only a brief moment. He pressed his lips together to stop it, and forced a little, strained smile.

‘Of course we did’ Sam lied with a jovial, reassuring smile ‘But we spent some time with her when we were younger. And’ he said changing the topic ‘Your third name is Mauro because of her’.

The little four year old scowled at that.

‘I don’t like Mauro. Or Junior. I like Flynn. It’s my name’.

Ed couldn’t help a chuckle. Flynn had quite a temper and hated it when he was called his full, long name. He insisted that he be only called Flynn.

‘Sure it is’ Sam winked an eye at him, and Flynn slurped the warm chocolate liquid in his bowl noisily.

‘Can I watch _Scooby Doo_ now, papa?’

Ed barely heard his son, his mind lost in the old memories that were slowly creeping back into his consciousness. That name had saved him once. Flynn. _Sam Flynn_.

‘Come here, baby’.

Ed opened his arms and Flynn ran into the hug, letting himself be squeezed if only for a brief moment.

‘Papa, let go’ he complained ‘I’m going to miss _Scooby Doo_!’

‘No, you won’t’ Ed said, and kissed him on the forehead ‘Go’.

‘Hey!’ Sam complained ‘How come I don’t get a hug?’

Flynn hugged him and kissed him quickly on the cheek, then made a beeline for the living room. He switched on the TV set and jumped on to the sofa.

‘You remember when we watched _Scooby Doo_ as kids?’ Sam asked, but Ed made no reply. He was tracing the flower pattern of the tablecloth with an absent finger.

‘Hey’ Sam murmured, finding his hand and twining his fingers with Ed’s ‘Are you alright?’

Ed tried a queasy smile, but there was no fooling Sam. His face looked sad and ashen, and suddenly he looked twenty years older, as if a heavy burden had fallen on his shoulders.

‘Ed’ Sam whispered, and squeezed his hand hard. He knew where this was going, and as always, he was already two steps ahead of Ed ‘They are just memories, Ed. They can’t hurt you. You know that. You control them, not the other way round’.

Ed snorted softly.

‘You sound like Dr. Escobar’.

Sam raised his eyebrows in that no-nonsense way of his, like when he was warning Flynn not to misbehave.

‘Maybe. But I’m right’ he murmured.

‘Yeah’ Ed agreed looking up to the sky. There was a thread of a white cloud there, and Ed followed its changing form as it passed across the clear, blue sky. His mind wandered on tiptoe around the painful memories of his past, carefully trying to not awaken any beast. Ed had been praying for oblivion every single day for the past nineteen years, but he knew now that he would always remember what had happened. Some things were blurred and fuzzy, others were crystal clear. As Sam rose to clear the table, Ed sighed and shook his head as if to get rid of the memories that still plagued him. But as he moved to the sofa to watch the cartoons by Flynn’s side, Ed realized that today he was not going to be very successful.

 

***

 

‘Wow, two slaves in the Punishment Room!’ a student exclaimed as he strapped Ed down ‘Is it Christmas yet?’

‘I hear the old man is mad about it’ another replied as he rolled an IV stand close to Ed ‘Nothing of the sort has ever happened before. They’re beginning to question his methods’.

‘Bullshit’ the first one retorted ‘Bradley is the best there’s ever been. It’s just these bastards’ he gave a hard slap to Ed’s bare bottom ‘They never learn discipline’.

There was a brief silence, and Ed groaned as he felt a needle sliding into the vein of his wrist.

‘What’s that? Sedation?’

‘Oh, no. It’s a dextrose perfusion drip... Dr. Bradley doesn’t want this one to faint of dehydration’.

The student secured the needle and tube with surgical tape and sighed.

‘I just don’t get it, Matt. A bullet is cheaper than all this stuff. Shouldn’t these bastards be simply put down? Why all the effort? They consume too many of our resources, if you ask me’.

The student called Matt lubed a dildo and parted Ed’s asscheeks unceremoniously.

‘Please don’t’ Ed begged, but he was utterly ignored.

‘Don’t be such a dickhead, Jim’ Matt scoffed pushing the dildo inside Ed’s body. Ed groaned and thrashed, but it was useless, and the dildo slid all the way in ‘These guys are hard to get. You can’t just have them killed if they misbehave. It would be like throwing diamonds away simply because they have a dark spot on the surface. They’re worth too much money for that’.

‘Yeah?’ Jim asked without much interest ‘How much?’

Matt snapped the latex gloves off and took a clipboard from a nearby table.

‘$600.000, this one. He was sent to Sidney, but his Master returned him after only one day…’ the medical student frowned and flipped a couple of pages ‘Jim, look at this! The bastard tried to kill him! - _Stabbed his Master with a kitchen knife_ ’ he turned the page ‘The Agency had to send a new slave and an extra one free of charge to Sidney to shut the guy up. It must have cost quite a fortune. No wonder Bradley is mad’.

‘Yeah’ Jim pushed a button and a low hum filled the room. Ed cried in pain as the dildo left his ass and entered back again ‘But twelve hours in the fucking machine is not enough, if you ask me’.

Matt left the clipboard over a stool and shrugged.

‘That’s just the beginning. The old man wants him fucked into submission, for starters. But his real training will begin after that. Have you set the alarm of the machine? A nurse must come in a couple of hours to increase the dildo size. Bradley’s orders’.

Jim clicked a few buttons on the fucking machine, which beeped two times as the counter was set. Then he looked at the row of dildos waiting on the table, and his eyes grew wide in sadistic satisfaction as he considered the last one on the row, size 20.

‘Will they use that one on him?’ he asked pointing at the arm length monstrosity ‘Because that’s something I don’t want to miss’.

His friend shrugged again.

‘Dunno, don’t care. Probably. But come, we have to prepare _Fourteen'_ Matt folded a medical screen to reveal a young man strapped to a gyno chair.

‘My name is Sam Flynn’ came a weak voice.

‘Yeah, whatever’.

Ed’s ears perked up at that. Sam. Sam Flynn. Ed remembered that name. He had met him before, the first time he had been here. Well, he hadn’t quite met him. But he remembered his voice, his defiance. He had spent some time wondering what had become of the young man who defied Dr. Bradley and refused to be called _Fourteen_. Ed envied him as much as he admired him. And now here he was... again? Or had he never really left? Ed craned his neck in an effort to get a glimpse of Sam Flynn, but the students didn’t let him see much of him. Just two bare feet and a green hospital gown.

‘He’ll wait in a padded cell to be collected’ Matt murmured looking at another clipboard ‘He’s plugged, and should be gagged as well. Dr. Bradley's orders. Prepare a straight jacket’.

Jim crossed the Punishment Room and removed a heavy duty straight jacket from a closet.

‘Pity you’re leaving us, _Fourteen_ ’ Matt mocked as he released Sam’s ankles from the metallic stirrups.

‘You know him?’ that was Jim, who walked back to the gyno chair with the dreadful leather contraption.

‘Sure I do. _Fourteen_ here is a bit of a celebrity, right boy?' he sneered 'Sweet little ass, screams like crazy with the enemas. Pity we don’t have time to…’

Ed never knew what happened next. There was a loud cry, then a flash of green as the young man on the chair –Sam Flynn- jumped to the floor, grabbed a pen from the student’s lab coat pocket and stabbed him in the eye. Ed only realized _that_ was what had happened a few seconds later, when a body fell with a thud on the floor, the face a grotesque mask and the eye socket red and twitching. The other student had no time to react before Sam picked a metal stool and hit him hard on the head. He slumped to the floor in silence, a pool of dark, thick blood pouring from his cracked skull.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then. Ed watched as Sam Flynn looked into the pants pockets of the corpses and fished out car keys, two wallets and a cellphone. Then he started to strip Jim off his clothes.

Ed tried very hard to find his voice, but he couldn’t. He wanted to say something, to scream at Sam, but a dead cold fear had him paralyzed. His mind was reeling, and all he could do was watch in mute horror as Sam put on  the pants, then the T-shirt, and finally the shoes. Only when Sam was ready to leave the room did a sudden panic overwhelm Ed, kicking him into action and making his throat muscles work once again.

‘Sam Flynn’ he croaked ‘Help me, please’.

Sam looked up and their eyes met for the first time. He was so shocked with the killings, the adrenaline pumping hard and fast through his veins, that he hadn’t realized Ed was there.

‘Help me’ Ed begged holding Sam’s gaze ‘Don’t leave without me. Don’t leave me here’.

In the maddening seconds that followed, Ed had the certainty that Sam was going to leave without him. He was frozen on the spot, looking at him with a horrified expression. Sam would later confess that he had never hesitated, not even for an instant. But it took him a few second to register the picture in front of him- a young man strapped to the sick bench of the fucking machine, with an obscene cock pushing into his ass rhythmically as a rivulet of red descended down his legs. Actually, Ed felt like a spitted pig readied for a roast, and later imagined Sam had seen in him a sort of pig’s head like the one talking deliriously in _Lord of the Flies_.

‘Help!’ Ed cried, and his cry pulled Sam out of his shock.

‘Easy, easy’ he said as he unbuckled Ed from the bench and stopped the infernal fucking machine ‘You’re safe now. Here, come. What have those bastards…?’ Sam pulled the needle off Ed’s wrist and kicked the IV stand to the floor ‘Now, can you stand? Can you walk?’

Ed stood shakily on his feet, and looked at the bloodied face of Sam Flynn.

‘What’s your name?’

Ed blinked and swallowed hard.

‘Ed Dillinger Junior’.

Sam grabbed him by the arms and shook him roughly.

‘Ed, I have just killed two men. You see them?’ Ed’s gaze followed Sam’s to the corpses on the floor ‘We won’t probably make it out of here alive, but if there is a chance to escape, only _one_ , even against all odds, I’m gonna try it’.

Sam seemed to remember something then, as if the adrenaline high had started to recede and he could feel less important things now. He reached behind his back and took something out of his ass, a black plug which he left on the gyno chair with a groan. Ed realized he should feel grossed by it, but Sam had just pulled a huge dildo out of his ass. Somehow, it all seemed pretty normal under the circumstances.

‘So, what do you say? Because we don’t have much time, Ed’.

Again Ed felt everything was happening in slow motion, but managed to nod at last.

‘I’m coming with you’ he whispered.

‘Put his clothes on then’ Sam pointed at Matt’s dead body ‘Quickly’.

In less than two minutes, Ed was dressed up like the medical student. The clothes didn’t fit very well, but the lab coat covered the too tight shirt and the too small pants. Ed saw his glasses on a nearby shelf and pushed them up his nose, even as Sam stuffed his pants pockets with the money and credit cards from the wallets. He picked the car keys and handed Ed the cellphone. Then he took a deep breath as he put his hand on the doorknob.

‘What if they have heard us?’ Ed anxiously asked ‘What if they’re waiting for us outside?’

Sam shook his head.

‘This room is soundproofed. Trust me, I know’.

Sam opened the door cautiously, but they had only made it to the middle of the corridor when Ed groaned in pain and bent over.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sam’s whisper sounded panicked, and Ed bit the back of his hand hard enough to bleed.

‘I can’t walk. It hurts too much’.

Sam walked him back to the Punishment Room and locked the door. They couldn’t escape like this. They wouldn’t make it. Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair and looked around him in despair.

‘Don’t leave me, Sam’ Ed pleaded, and his eyes filled with unshed tears ‘For God’s sake, don’t leave me here’.

Sam thought fast, looked around and saw a cabinet in the far wall of the room. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of painkillers, but they would be useless. He needed something fast _now_.

‘What are you doing?’ Ed asked with a hoarse voice as he saw Sam filling up a syringe.

‘It’s a bit of morphine. It will help you’.

‘Morphine?’ Ed’s face turned white.

‘I’m a nurse’ Sam said reaching the 5 ml mark on the syringe ‘I know what I’m doing’.

Sam pushed Ed’s pants down before he had time to react and stuck the needle in his bottom. Ed groaned, and Sam waited a few minutes as the shot took effect. They were the longest minutes of Ed’s life, and with each passing second he felt as if somebody was going to burst through the door, tie them up in those dreadful straight jackets and take them to Dr. Bradley as offerings. A gurgling panic choked Ed, but thankfully the morphine was swift and it dulled the edge of his fear, and of his pain. Ed was dimly aware of Sam writing something on a yellow post-it note, and wondered what he was doing. But before he had time to ask, Sam was back to his side.

‘How are you feeling? Can you walk now?’

‘Yes’ Ed said, and his voice sounded like from far away.

Sam opened the door again and peeked outside the Punishment Room.

‘Come. Quickly’.

‘How do you know the way?’ Ed whispered, but Sam grabbed his wrist and made him walk briskly.

Ed tripped down a couple of times, suddenly he felt as if his feet were very heavy, but he followed Sam down the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital in silence. A new hope rose in Ed’s chest, maybe, just _maybe_ they were going to make it, and just as the thought formed in his head, a nurse appeared round a corner. Ed’s world started to collapse, but suddenly Sam was greeting her charmingly, and smiling at her, and the girl murmured an absent-minded ‘Good Morning’ and moved past them without giving them any further notice.

‘We have to go down’ Sam said as they arrived to the end of the corridor, and punched the button of the elevator a few times. It seemed the elevator took forever to get to their floor, and when it did, the doors opened to reveal a security guard. Ed stared at the guard with a blank face, but Sam gripped him by the arm and pushed him inside not too nicely.

‘Ground Floor, please’ Sam muttered, and the guard grunted something indistinctly.

Ed felt the suspicious eyes of the guard on him, then on Sam, and for a moment he felt like he was going to be sick, as he imagined the hand of the guard –and why was it so big, he wondered, and with so many fingers- pushing the alarm and calling Dr. Bradley, who would arrive with a host of sneering students, and then Ed would be the talking head of a pig again, stabbed to death on the fucking machine as the doctors danced a ritual dance around him.

‘Shouldn’t you guys be in the clinic wing?’ the guard asked, but Sam, _Sam_ _Flynn_ –and thank the Lord of the Flies for Sam Flynn- he smiled and patted the guard on his back.

‘Haven’t you heard, man? Dr. Bradley has bought himself a slave. At last!’

‘No way’ the guard replied ‘You’re kidding me’.

‘Nope. He’s so happy about it that he gave us the day off. Can’t wait to celebrate!’

‘Geez, I’m happy for him’ the guard said as the elevator doors slid open ‘He deserves twenty of those boys for all the good work he does. He’s a great man’.

Sam smiled at him and pushed Ed out of the elevator. When he looked around him, Ed realized they were in a huge grey, steely foyer. It seemed they were in what looked like a corporate building- this was no hospital at all. Business men and women walked busily past them, and Sam quickly took his lab coat off.

‘Ed, come on. We have to leave, _now’_.

But Ed was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the CCTV camera hanging from the high ceiling.

‘They’re watching us’ he whispered dreamily ‘We’re not going to make it. We’re dead, Sam. We’ll be the main course for dinner tonight’.

‘ _Come on!_ ’ Sam urged and pulled him by the wrist, forcing him to take a step towards the glass doors ‘I’m not giving up, not now, not ever! Move!’

Ed took a reluctant step, then another, all the while hearing in his head the cries of the security guards, the laughter of the medical students, and the soothing voice of Dr. Bradley who called him _Twelve_ and promised everything would be alright. He wanted to go to that voice, rest in that voice, in its warmth and security. When he found himself on the street, Ed looked unseeingly around him. He didn’t know where he was, and he was afraid.

Taxi!’ Sam cried as he hailed a cab.

Sam opened the back door and shoved Ed inside, who banged his head against the window, but had no strength left to cry. He felt himself falling into a dark abyss, and he didn’t fight it.

 

***

 

When Ed came to, he was in the back seat of a car, and Sam was driving.

‘Hey’ Sam smiled at him as he watched him move and groan through the rear mirror ‘Back again? How do you feel?’

‘Stop’ Ed feebly moaned, as he felt his stomach churning.

‘No way. We passed Irvine an hour ago. We need to get to La Jolla before night falls, and tomorrow we’ll cross the border’.

‘I said stop!’ Ed cried in a sudden panic, and Sam pushed the brake as he saw him opening the door of the car ‘STOP!’

The brakes screeched noisily in the middle of the road, and the car skidded a few meters before it came to a full stop. Ed tumbled out of the car retching noisily. Sam left the car and ran to his side, even as Ed became violently sick.

‘Ed!’

An acute spasm bent him over, forcing an orange fluid out of his stomach.

‘Easy, Ed. Easy. It’s the morphine, you have withdrawal symptoms’ Sam soothed as he held his head ‘They will pass soon’.

‘Leave me alone’ Ed moaned, thrashing and trembling uncontrollably ‘I want to go back- I want-’ he punched Sam in the chin with surprising strength, as a madman fighting for his life. Sam held him by the wrists, and after a quick struggle, he managed to subdue him.

‘Hush, hush, It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright, Ed. You’re safe now’.

Sam pulled him down and they both sat in the middle of the road, but Ed suddenly erupted in another bout of rage, screaming and trying to kick Sam away. Sam slapped him twice in the face and that seemed to make Ed come back to his senses. He froze on the spot, and looked at Sam with a faint glint of recognition.

‘Sam’ he whispered as a tear fell down his cheek ‘Sam Flynn’.

Ed broke down then, sobbing and weeping like a lost child, and Sam hugged him for a long while, stroking his back and running soft fingers through his hair. He lost track of time, as he whispered soft nothings into Ed’ s ear and talked to him as to a frightened infant who has woken up from a horrid nightmare. When the weeping subsided Ed became silent and limp, and Sam doubled his efforts to soothe him down and bring him out of his traumatic  shock. Sam began to hum then, nothing in particular at first, just tuneless old songs, but one popped into his mind, and he began to sing.

‘ _Here… Mmmm… Making each day of the year… There… Nananana… I wander everywhere, and if she’s beside me I know I need never care… Mmmmm… But to love her is to need her everywhere… Here, there and everywhere_ ’.

Sam felt Ed shifting slowly in his arms, and he turned to look at him with a deep frown.

‘You’re tone deaf’ he sentenced, and Sam couldn’t help a laugh at that.

‘Am I?’ he asked with a little smile, feeling the tension leaving his muscles at last.

‘Absolutely’ Ed replied sitting on the verge of the road ‘Lennon must be turning over in his grave’.

‘I thought it was Paul who sang that’.

They fell into an uneasy silence again, and as Ed looked unblinkingly at a dry bush, the enormity of what had happened in the past hours fell on his shoulders again.

‘Sam’ Ed said as a faint tremor ran down his back ‘We should be going’.

‘Yeah’.

They entered the car again, and Ed sat in the front seat next to Sam.

‘I’m going to drive for a few more hours, then we can stop and have a quick dinner’.

Ed nodded. He had a million questions churning in his head, and he was feeling a cold, metallic fear in the pit of his stomach that would accompany him for many months to come. But as Sam started the engine, the old Beatles song started to play in his head. It would take Ed weeks to sing it to Sam, but when he finally did, they were safe, and in love, and most importantly- they were free.

 

***

 

‘Dr. Bradley, we have a situation’.

The deep voice made everybody stop in the operating theatre. Dr. Bradley looked at the window in the upper floor and frowned. He instructed his best student to begin the procedure that would render _Twenty-One_ completely impotent as per his Master’s instructions, and left the operating theatre.

‘You better have a good reason to interrupt me, John’ he offered as a greeting to the CEO of _The Agency_.

‘I do, Alan. We have two slaves on the run’.

Dr. Bradley’s face didn’t register any change at the news. He was stone-faced as usual, cold and impassive. When he spoke, his voice was flat and void of emotion.

‘ _Fourteen_. And _Twelve_ ’.

John frowned.

‘How do you know? We’re trying to keep it secret, at least for the moment. But it’s one hell of a situation, Alan. They killed two of your students. The corpses were found ten minutes ago, by a nurse. We have her in isolation, and she hasn’t talked with anyone yet, but when she does…’

‘Bury it all, John’ came the snappy reply ‘The corpses, the nurse, the slaves who fled. You’re not finding those two’.

‘Oh?’ the CEO quirked a skeptic eyebrow ‘Our men already have all the data they need. The slaves are two hours ahead of us, but we’ve already tracked their movements. They used one of your students’ credit cards to get money from several ATMs. We’ll find them, Alan. And when we do…’

‘You’re wasting your time, John’ Alan cut in, and turned to the operating theatre again. He was about to push the doors open when John’s voice rooted him to the ground.

‘They left something for you’.

Dr. Bradley turned slowly, his cold blue eyes resting on the iPad John was holding. There was a picture of the Punishment Room on the screen- of the gyno chair, to be precise. The picture was a close up of a black buttplug with a yellow post-it note attached to it.

FUCK YOU, it read.

Alan narrowed his eyes and read it again.

_FUCK YOU._

It hurt like a punch to the stomach, like a white hot brand singeing his flesh.

‘You won’t find them’ Alan murmured, and was proud that his voice sounded as cool and collected as usual ‘But if you ever do, bring me _Fourteen_. _Alive’_.

‘I will’ the CEO promised, and left to answer an incoming call to his cellphone.

Alan made it back to the operating theatre, where he asked his student for the scalpel and continued the operation himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More on how Sam and Ed escaped from _The Agency_ , and how little Flynn learns about it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [telera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/telera)

Ed looked through the rear mirror of the car for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Sam noticed, but didn't say anything. He only gripped the steering wheel harder and put some more pressure on the accelerator.

Another nervous glimpse and Ed bit his bottom lip.

'Ed' Sam said in exasperation 'Nobody is following us'.

Ed looked again and swallowed hard.

'How can you be so sure?'

Sam didn't reply, and Ed settled for biting his nails. It was a habit he had long abandoned, but now it was back with a vengeance. He needed to feel his nails cracking under his teeth. Bite, and then the tiny crack. _There_. What a pleasure it brought. One by one he bit them all, but then, he only had ten fingers. When he was done, he became restless again. And his eyes travelled to the rear mirror once more.

'Ed’ Sam warned through clenched teeth ‘Stop looking'.

'And what do you want me to do?' Ed cried.

'Nothing!’ Sam felt his temper flaring ‘Do nothing! Or take a nap or smoke a cigarette, I don’t care! Just stop looking!’

Ed turned his head and looked through the window in stubborn silence for a few miles. Sam licked his lips and tried to cool down a bit. He tried really hard.

'Ed' he attempted in a softer tone after a while 'Nobody is following us'.

'But what if they find us'.

It was not a question, and they both knew it. The possibility hung so heavy over their heads that the air in the car seemed to grow dense and thick. Sam looked at the speedometer and pushed the accelerator a little more.

 

***

 

They arrived at La Jolla in the late afternoon. Sam parked the car at the bay, and when he was about to leave the car, Ed grabbed him by the sleeve.

'Where are you going?' he asked alarmed.

Sam frowned.

'Out. I'll get us some food and we'll sleep at the beach. Tomorrow we'll...'

'No, you can't do that. They'll see you. There are CCTVs everywhere. In the supermarkets, in the MacDonald’s, in every single street. They’ll see you and they’ll find us’.

Sam looked at Ed and wondered if his paranoia had been triggered by the morphine or if it was post-traumatic stress. It looked like the latter.

'Then what do you propose we do?'

'We stay here. In the car'.

'We need food, Ed! We can’t stay in the car forever!’

Ed looked at him and blinked in confusion. All he knew was that the car was safe. The car. Inside.

Sam got a few notes from his pocket and counted them.

‘We don’t have much money left, and we'll need a full tank tomorrow. Anyway, I think...'

Ed looked at the money as if he didn't know what it was.

'Where did you get that?' he asked.

Sam licked his lips slowly.

'The medical students. I took their wallets and credit cards'.

Ed’s eyes widened.

'Did you use the cards?' he asked as his voice rose in panic.

'Back in LA. A few times. We needed money'.

'Fuck! We're fucked Sam! They'll track us down, they'll- FUCK!'

He punched the dashboard and kicked the glove compartment in a frenzy.

‘We're so fucked! Do you know how easy it is to track a credit card? Even a five year old could do it!'

'But it was back in LA!' Sam cried, although he knew Ed was right 'They don't know where we went from there!'

'Oh, they don't?'  Ed looked around him in fear and started to shake badly 'They must be here now _, he-_ He’s here. If you leave the car he’ll find you. He’ll find me’.

Sam rested his hands on the steering wheel and clenched his jaw. He knew using the stolen credit cards on the ATMs would be dangerous, but they needed the money. The old trick he had learnt to override the PIN number only worked for a few hundred dollars each time, but it was better than nothing.

Sam wanted to explain to Ed that he had taken extra precautions to avoid being caught. He had given Matt's car keys and his wallet to a few guys who were obviously selling drugs in the street, in the hope that they would steal Matt's car and break into his house. He had given the stolen cell phone to a homeless old man, and had told the taxi driver who picked them up at _The Agency_ building to continue to the airport without them. Then he had rented a car using Jim’s ID and paid in cash to avoid being tracked down. It was dangerous, but he really had no other options.

'Listen, Ed' he said in a calmer tone. Ed was still shaking lightly, and murmured something Sam couldn't quite understand. His eyes were fixed on the glove compartment, and he was rocking his body to and fro.

'I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll buy food and some extra supplies. Right?'

Ed snapped out of his mumbling reverie and looked at him quizzically.

'Supplies?'

Sam tried a smile, but he failed.

'You're bleeding' he said in the softest tone he could manage.

Ed frowned and looked at his lap. A wet blood stain had appeared around his crotch, but all Ed saw was the shape of an odd red butterfly.

'I'll be back. Soon. Wait here. Don't leave the car'.

Sam locked the car to make sure, but he knew Ed wasn't going anywhere. As he walked around the car to cross the street, he pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head and headed for the nearest supermarket.

 

***

 

'Here' Sam said giving Ed a warm cup of coffee 'Drink this. And eat'.

They were sitting on a towel at the beach, acting as any other couple who had decided to watch the sunset together. Sam had chosen a remote spot where there were hardly any people. Only the occasional jogger appeared every now and then, and was quickly gone.

'It's just hamburgers, but they'll have to do' he gave a hearty bite to his cheeseburger and Ed did the same. He was not mumbling or rocking his body anymore, and Sam took it as a good sign that his trauma was wearing off at last.

'You feel better now?' he asked as Ed sipped more of his coffee.

Ed nodded, and they continued to eat in silence. Sam ate all the French fries and a couple of jelly donuts. Not exactly what he liked best, but they were cheap and he needed the sugar boost. He didn't really want to remember when it had been the last time he'd eaten anything. Anything solid, that is. And through his mouth.

When they finished the dinner, Sam put the empty cheeseburgers’ boxes in a bag with the styrofoam cups of coffee and threw it into a nearby litter basket. When he returned, Ed looked eerily calmed, and spoke with a faint voice:

'Who are they?'

Sam clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but Ed deserved to know. So he chose his next words carefully.

'They call themselves _The Agency_. They're a human traffic net'.

Sam poked his finger into the sand and made a little hole. He knew more, but he didn't volunteer any further information.

'I... I was at _Mario's_. You know the place?'

Sam shook his head.

'It's a high end bar in the upper part of town. A few friends were celebrating a party there and asked me to join them. I liked the place, and the music. The mojitos were excellent. But then... Sometime around midnight, I started to feel unwell. I went to the restroom, and...'

Ed's voice waivered, and his eyes filled with tears.

'They spiked your drink' Sam said as he drew lines in the sand with his finger.

‘W-when I aw-woke...’ Ed stammered ‘That second time, after the hospital. I awoke and I was in the kitchen of this guy, and he called me Robert. I was on a dog mat and... He wanted me to drink from a dog bowl'.

'Bastard' Sam hissed.

'I refused’ Ed continued as if he hadn’t heard Sam ‘And he beat me. With a broomstick. Over and over again, and he was saying 'Bad Robert' all the time. I managed to stand and saw a knife stand over the counter. I have a similar one at home and… Suddenly the knife was in my hand and...'

Ed lied down on the towel and curled his body in a fetal position.

'It was so easy. So easy'.

The last words were a hitched sob, and Sam ran a comforting hand down Ed’s back. In a flash of memory he saw the dead students on the floor of the Procedure Room, and the heavy stool in his hands.

'I went to the neighbouring house’ Ed continued ‘Told them everything that had happened. They thought I was mad, but they called the police at last. I was taken to the police station, and after a while, the cops seemed to believe me. They said they would be calling a special division and...'

Sam snorted softly.

'A man and a woman arrived in the next hour' Ed continued 'They said they were from this special US agency... That they would take me home. They accompanied me to a hotel and... Next thing I knew, I was back at the clinic... And he... _he_...’

Ed started to retch then, and Sam feared he was going to be sick. He lied down by his side and hugged him, and didn't let go until the tremors racking his body stopped.

'Why me, Sam?' he sobbed 'I had done nothing wrong, why me?'

'Hush' Sam said holding him tight. It was a useless question. Unavoidable, but useless.

An awkward silence followed, and Sam realized that Ed was expecting to hear his tale- his story with _The Agency_. But he was not ready to share it. Not yet.

'I need to have a look down there’ he said instead ‘I have to cure you’.

A shiver ran down Ed’s spine, and he looked at Sam with shiny eyes.

‘No, please’ he begged.

‘I’ll be very gentle, I promise’ Sam sat up and fished for some supplies in a green bag from a pharmacy ‘I won’t hurt you. Trust me'.

Ed watched in trepidation as Sam tapped a small bottle open and squeezed some disinfectant gel over his fingers. They were long and bony, just like Dr. Bradley's.

_'I'm so disappointed in you, Twelve. So disappointed'._

The voice came out of nowhere, and it sounded so real, right here, in Ed's ear. It was a steely whisper that drenched his body in cold sweat.

'Lie on your side, Ed. And now... pull your knees to your chest. Like that. Good’ Sam opened a packet of baby wipes 'You tell me if it hurts, right?'

Ed dimly felt Sam pulling down his shorts and beginning to clean the dried blood there. But all his attention was fixed on Dr. Bradley, who was there with him, lying on the sand in his white lab coat.

_‘You were so beautiful. And showed much promise. I wanted you to be a good boy. And you let me down’._

'I'm sorry' Ed whispered as a fresh tear slid down his nose 'Please, forgive me’.

'Sshshsh' Sam muttered as he slid his index finger into Ed's anus carefully ‘There is a little tearing... but you should be OK'.

'Can I go home?'

'We'll find a new home, Ed' Sam rubbed a yellow cream onto the sensitive skin 'I promise'.

But Dr. Bradley shook his head.

_'Home is where I am, Twelve. When you get there, I'll be waiting'._

Ed blinked, and suddenly Dr. Bradley was no longer there. He had disappeared, vanished in thin air. Ed held his breath, and he barely registered what happened next. He felt something melting inside him - '...to fight a possible infection...'- and there was something soft in his pants- '...just a bit of gauze...'. But none of it seemed to make much sense. Then Sam was spooning him from behind, murmuring something about sleeping and leaving early and humming a tuneless song. But Ed wouldn't close his eyes. He had to remain vigilant in case Dr. Bradley returned. Even if that meant he'd never sleep again.

 

***

 

The boy was barely nineteen, strong and beautiful. Dr. Bradley squeezed his gloved index finger past the tight ring of muscle, and the boy hissed in pain. He moved his finger quickly, feeling as the numbing lube melted and watching as the boy struggled against the restraints in vain. He was so much like _Fourteen_ , when they first met. When he was bright and fresh and so pliant. So sweet. Before that fateful night. Before-

‘Ready, Dr. Bradley?’

The voice of the medical student brought him out of his reverie.

‘Let’s begin’ he said pushing the speculum in and getting the surgical suture. He eyed the camera that had been installed in his Procedure Room and clenched his jaw. _The Agency_ had been questioning his methods for a while now, and _Fourteen_ escaping with _Twelve_ had given them the perfect excuse to fire him. He had kept his job by the skin of his teeth, but he’d be closely monitored for a full year.

‘Probation’ the new CEO of the Agency sentenced, as if he were a mere trainee.

But Dr. Bradley was not intimidated.

In the weeks that followed the infamous incident, and despite _The Agency_ ’s best efforts at silencing it, word had gotten out about the escape of two slaves. As a consequence, many potential customers started to buy somewhere else, and some of their trusted clients stopped placing new orders. Alan knew the key to _The Agency_ ’s renewed success was offering something unique to keep their customers and attract new ones. And he had come up with a rather simple but effective idea.

‘The internal stitching won’t be noticed when it heals, and it is permanent’  he explained to the group of students as he worked with the curved needle ‘The slaves will be tight month after month, therefore increasing their value, their Masters’ pleasure...’ he cut the thread and smiled ‘And our sales’.

The students nodded and murmured to each other in agreement.

‘All done in twenty minutes and with local anaesthetic, gentlemen. I suggest you begin practising the anal canal tightening _right now_ ’.

Each student moved to an examination table and Dr. Bradley watched as they busied with the task ahead. He knew _The Agency_ would beat their rivals in less than a year.

And they did.

 

***

 

'Papa, I want to know what is in the box that came this morning' Flynn said as he jumped on the bed in his fresh pyjamas 'That parcel from Mexico. That Cecilia woman. Tell me'.

'Stop jumping right now’ Ed frowned ‘And don’t you call Cecilia “woman”. It’s disrespectful’.

Flynn pouted and stopped jumping.

'Sorry, papa'  he said as he got under the sheet 'Will daddy come to tuck me in?'

'Of course. You want your toys?'

'Sure’.

Ed looked for Flynn's plush toys around the room.

'Sam!' he called 'We're ready for the night!'.

'Coming!' he said from the kitchen.

'OK' Ed said sitting on the bed 'So we have Mr. Bear and Cucho and Cuddles and Tommy Fox'.

'You forgot Carlitos!'

'Oh' Ed sighed and located the old tiger under a chair 'There he is'.

Flynn placed all his plush toys around him, and squealed in excitement when Sam appeared on the door acting like a big, monstrous bear.

'I smell a boy' he roared in a mock parody of a cartoon villain 'Where is he? I'm hungry!'

Flynn giggled as Sam jumped on the bed and tickled him until he surrendered. Three raspberry battles later, Sam kissed his son and tucked him in as he did every night.

'Is papa going to tell you a tale tonight?'

'Yes!' Flynn replied 'The tale of Lady Cecilia'.

Sam laughed at that.

'She was not a damsel in distress, Flynn. We...' he looked at Ed for a long moment 'We were'.

'Why?'

Ed held his breath and pressed his lips together. He was adamant about not telling Flynn anything of what had happened, but Sam didn’t agree.  He wanted their son to know their story- the basics, at least, if not the full details. Flynn learning about Cecilia’s parcel that morning had made it all inevitable, and Ed had agreed to explain something... a white lie, to be sure. But as he watched the old Mr. Bear with his knight helmet, Sam suddenly had an idea.

‘You see, Flynn’ Sam began before Ed could speak ‘When we were young, papa and I were being pursued by this evil, wicked wizard'.

'Why?' came the swift question.

'Because...' Sam felt for Ed's hand and squeezed it 'Because he... He kidnapped all the girls and boys in the realm’.

Ed frowned lightly, a mixed look of surprise and anxiety showing in his face. But he said nothing, so Sam continued.

‘And when he had them all caged, he took them to his evil tower’.

‘He wanted to eat you?’

'No, baby, he... He...’

Sam trailed off. He looked blankly at Ed for help, and Ed cleared his throat after a long moment.

'For his experiments’ he said in a thready voice ‘He wanted us... For his experiments’.

Ed squeezed Sam’s hand tight, and Flynn continued his questions as any four year old would.

'He wanted to turn you into toads? Into snakes?'

Sam smiled.

'Something like that. So papa and I escaped one day and we ran and ran--'

'Did the wizard have demon lackeys? Like Hades in _Hercules_?'

'Oh, yes, quite a few. And they were pursuing us all the time. But after running through the DarkForest for many days, we arrived at a little magic house where Cecilia lived'.

'Was she a fairy?'

'Oh, no. She was an old sorceress. Very wise and powerful. She hid us from the evil wizard and his lackeys, and prepared shamanic concoctions for papa, who was very ill’.

'Why were you ill, Papa?' Flynn asked sitting on the bed.

Ed managed a weak smile.

'I... The evil wizard had poisoned me, Flynn. With a spell'.

'But Cecilia's magic was more powerful’ Sam quickly said ‘And after some time, Papa was healthy again.  She found us a job cutting wood for the elves, and many months later, we had managed to save enough golden coins to travel again. We couldn’t go back to the States or the wizard would find us again, so she showed us a magic map and told us to come here, to Argentina. She wrote a letter to an old sister of hers, who was also a great sorceress, and she helped us to begin a new life here’. 

Flynn was about to ask something again, but then Ed spoke.

‘And before we left her house, she gave me a magic present’ he said opening the parcel.

‘What is it, Papa?’ Flynn asked as Ed carefully unwrapped its content.

‘It’s a dreamcatcher’ Ed murmured 'So that the evil wizard could never get to me in my nightmares'.

Flynn touched the fine threads and beads of the dreamcatcher and frowned.

‘Does it work?’

‘Of course it does’ Ed replied ‘And Cecilia sends me one every three months'.

'Why?'

'Because they lose power after three months. They're full of nightmares, and no longer good. So she makes another one, with a different pattern and new magic beads'.

Flynn caressed the soft feathers hanging from the big hoop.

'Can I sleep with it tonight?'

'Sure, baby' Ed kissed him on the forehead and left it on the bedside table 'Sleep tight'.

'Goodnight, Flynn' Sam kissed him too and clicked the lights off. They were on the door of the bedroom when Flynn spoke again.

'Dad, what happened to the evil wizard?'

'He died' Sam replied without hesitation 'Long ago'.

'Did Cecilia kill him?'

'His... his evil demons killed him. Don't worry about that now, Flynn. Goodnight'.

Sam closed the door and sighed.

'You OK?'

Ed nodded, but his body trembled slightly.

‘Come ’ere’ Sam murmured, and held Ed in a tight hug ‘You did very well’.

‘So did you. It hadn’t occurred to me, a fairytale. It’s a good idea. Until he grows up’.

Sam sighed and broke the hug.

‘But we’re not there yet, Ed. When he grows up, if he has more questions, we’ll answer them. And it’ll be fine. You’ll see’.

Ed resettled his glasses over his nose and smiled sadly.

‘Let’s... Let’s not talk about this anymore. Dinner?’

None of them happened to be very hungry, and they ate mostly in silence. When Sam cleared the table they moved to the sofa to watch some soccer, but during a commercial break, Ed muted the TV and cuddled up to Sam.

‘You really think he’s dead?’

Sam didn’t answer. He only held Ed tighter, and kissed him softly on the cheek.

‘Don’t think about it’ he murmured after a while.

None of them spoke anymore, and they made it to bed soon after. They lay in silence for a long while, fighting memories and ghosts until they finally succumbed to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn gets lost at the Shopping Mall and meets an old gentleman...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by [telera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/telera)

The waiter brought the salad a third time- finally without the raw onion rings.

‘ _¿Está así bien, señor?_ ’

Alan checked everything was correct, and nodded.

‘ _Gracias’_ he murmured flipping a page in his English-Spanish pocket dictionary ‘ _Es muy amable_ ’.

The waiter left and Alan sighed. The Shopping Mall was loud and noisy, and he would have very much preferred to eat at the small Italian restaurant by his hotel. But his leg was hurting badly after visiting the ModernArt Museum in the morning, and he knew he wouldn’t make it back in time for lunch. Not even his walking cane helped him much of late. Alan took two little pills from a pillbox in his pocket and swallowed them with a sip of water.

‘Daddy?’

Buenos Aires was so hot in December- and so busy. Everybody was buying presents for Christmas, crowding the shops at the Mall and pushing heavy trolleys full of bags. Alan stuck the fork into a slice of mushroom and hummed approvingly. At least the salad was good.

‘DAD?!’

Alan looked up and saw a little boy in the wide aisle of the food court. He was looking to his left and right with unease, and clutched a dinosaur toy in his hand.

‘Papa? Where are you?’

Alan frowned. Nobody was paying much attention to the boy. There were just too many people around, and they were all busy with their lunches. Probably they didn’t understand English. Alan put his fork aside and left his table, using the cane to walk up to where the little boy had started to sob.

‘Hello’ he softly said, and he bent down as much as he could until he was at eye level with the boy ‘Are you lost?’

The boy looked at him and a tear slid down his cheek.

‘I have lost my dad. And my papa, too’.

Alan raised an eyebrow at that.

‘You have two daddies?’

‘Yes’ the boy replied ‘Do you know them?’

Alan smiled.

‘No, I don’t. But come with me. Maybe we can find them’.

He held the boy’s hand as they walked back to his table. Alan called the waiter again and tried to explain the best he could the child was lost and that he should call security or the police. It didn’t work, of course- his Spanish was a disaster beyond asking for a coffee or _fideos con tuco_.

‘ _Quiere que llames a la policía_ ’ the boy said as he fiddled with his toy dinasaur ‘ _Porque me he perdido_ ’.

The waiter talked briefly with the boy in Spanish, and then addressed Alan again in a tentative English.

‘Hum, thank you, sir. If you can stay with the boy here, I’ll call… phone… _seguridad_. His parents must be looking for him’.

‘Yes, of course’ Alan replied, and sat back at the table. The boy was tense and worried, and swung his legs under the chair nervously.

‘What’s your name?’ Alan asked leaving his cane on the empty chair by his side.

‘Flynn Smith’.

‘Very nice. And are you hungry, Flynn? Maybe you could eat something while we wait for your dads’.

The boy’s face lit up.

‘Can I have chocolate ice cream? A really, _really_ big bowl?’

‘Sure’ Alan said with a smile ‘Although I don’t know if that’s what your dads would like you to have for lunch’.

They ordered the chocolate ice cream, and when it arrived to the table, Alan resumed his Criolla Salad.

‘What’s your name?’ Flynn asked after his first spoonful.

‘Alan. Alan Bradley’.

‘The waiter called you _gringo_. And something less nice, but my dad doesn’t want me to say that word’.

Alan’s frown creased.

‘I see’ he said. The waiter had been rude indeed ‘Well, I come from the States. You know where they are?’

‘Sure’ Flynn said ‘My daddies are North American too. But they can never go back there’.

‘Oh’ Alan cleaned his mouth with the napkin ‘And why’s that?’

‘FLYNN!’ there was a little commotion as a man raised his voice in the middle of the food court ‘Sam! Sam, he’s here!’

The man came running down the aisle and held up the boy in his arms.

‘Flynn! Flynn, thank God you’re alright! Jesus, where were you?!’

‘You… you said we were going to have pizza and so I went to the _Pizzería_ to see if they had pepperoni and…’

But the man was too upset to listen.

‘Don’t you ever let go of papa’s hand when we’re at the Mall, do you hear me, Flynn? _Never’_.

The boy started to sob at his harsh tone.

‘I’m sorry, papa’ he whimpered ‘Are you mad at me?’

‘No, baby, I’m not’ he said kissing the boy and leaving him back in the chair ‘But don’t you ever do it again, understood?’

‘Mmhh-mm’ Flynn picked the ice cream spoon again, but he looked as if he had suddenly lost his appetite. Alan had been watching the whole exchange in polite silence, and smiled when the middle-aged man turned to him, still obviously anxious and concerned about the well being of his son.

‘Thank you, sir’ he said shaking Alan’s hand ‘I… I can’t just say how grateful I am for…’

Ed’s words died when he looked at the old man’s face. The color drained from his cheeks and lips, and for a moment Alan thought he was going to have a panic attack. As he looked at the tanned face of the handsome brunette, a faint glimmer of recognition flicked in Alan’s eyes.

‘Flynn! Ed!’ another man gasped as he trotted down the aisle followed by two security guards ‘There you are. Are you alright?’

He took in his son, who was eating chocolate ice cream again, and then Ed, who stood frozen to the spot, his hand stretched out and empty.

‘Ed, what is it?’ he asked, then turned his head to face the old man.

Recognition dawned instantly in Alan’s eyes. Many years had gone by, and there were some grey hairs dusting his golden goatee, but the fire in his eyes –that blue fire- was still the same.

‘ _Fourteen’_ he whispered, and it felt as if an icy cold blanket had suddenly enveloped the three of them.

‘ _Bueno, este…_ ’ the security guard said ‘ _Creo que ya hemos encontrado a su hijo, ¿no?_ _¿Señores?_ ’

‘ _Sí_ …’ Sam murmured absently, his eyes still holding Dr. Bradley’s gaze ‘ _Gracias, oficial. Muchas gracias_ ’.

The guards left, and the three of them stayed like that for a long moment, standing by the table in a tense, suffocating silence.

‘Care to join me?’ Dr. Bradley said as if they were good, old friends. He sat down again and picked a cherry tomato with his fork ‘Flynn and I were having a little conversation’.

Sam looked around- there were still a few curious eyes looking at them from the nearby tables, and the security guards hadn’t left the food court yet- they were still in the aisle, watching them and talking on their walkie-talkies.

‘Yeah’ he sat down, if only to fake a veneer of normality. This old man had just found their son- they should be talking to him, and thanking him, and inviting him to lunch ‘Ed, sit down’.

Ed looked for all the world as if he were _not_ in this world, but in a land of ghosts. After nineteen years of haunting nightmares, of trying to convince himself that it was over, the monster had finally found them.

‘Ed!’ Sam urged, and thankfully, little Flynn helped him then.

‘Papa, sit down! You look like a fool!’

Ed reacted to his son’s voice, and seemed to come out of his reverie. He sat down at last, his eyes fixed on Dr. Bradley as if he were a poisonous cobra. After a few tense minutes, during which Dr. Bradley and Flynn ate with gusto, the suspicious looks from the guards and the people around them faded away. Everything went back to normal at the food court, and soon the incident was forgotten.

‘So, Flynn’ Dr. Bradley asked as he put the fork down ‘You haven’t told me what you want to be when you grow up’.

‘A football player’ the boy replied without hesitation ‘I want to play with the Boca Juniors Team and be a great player like Maradona’.

‘A-ha’ Dr. Bradley smiled, noticing how Ed reached out with his hand under the table to hold his son’s hand in a protective gesture.

‘But sometimes’ Flynn continued ‘Sometimes I’d like to be a doctor. So I can  help dad at the _dispensario_ ’.

Dr. Bradley cocked his head in a curious gesture.

‘Is that a… dispensary?’ he asked, but neither Sam nor Ed replied. Ed seemed like he was about to jump any second now, and Sam was looking at Dr. Bradley with an intent, steady gaze.

‘Yeah’ Flynn continued, dipping the mouth of the dinosaur toy in the bowl of ice cream ‘It’s a clinic for poor people. They come when they’re ill and daddy gives them medicines’, he said beaming at Sam.

‘I see’ Dr. Bradley murmured. Then he turned to Ed and grinned.

‘You better check the record books closely, then. Just in case he falls back to old… habits’.

‘What are you doing here?’ Sam blurted out, and Dr. Bradley took a sip of his water.

‘Enjoying life. I retired two years ago. I thought Buenos Aires would be a nice place to visit’.

‘Argentina has always attracted many criminals’ Sam muttered in a low voice so that Flynn didn’t hear him.

Dr. Bradley raised an eyebrow.

‘Speak for yourself. You killed two men before getting here. Maybe more’.

Ed pushed Flynn’s chair back with urgency.

‘Flynn, we’re going home’.

‘But papa!’ Flynn protested ‘I haven’t finished the ice cream!’

Ed ignored him and stood up, picking Flynn in his arms as he did so.

‘I said we’re going home’ Ed hissed in a no-nonsense tone, and Flynn pouted.

Sam left his chair too, and so did Dr. Bradley.

‘Thanks for the ice-cream’ Flynn politely said, and Alan smiled warmly at him. ‘You’re welcome. And study medicine if you can, Flynn. I’m a doctor, and I know you’ll like it. Actually, that’s how I met your parents. They were patients of mine, once. I looked after them when they were… ill’.

Ed turned his back and walked away from the cafeteria. Sam remained, left a few pesos on the table and closed the distance between him and Dr. Bradley until he was standing flush against him.

‘If you come near my son or us again, I’ll kill you’.

Dr. Bradley’s eyes creased at the corners. He had to be past seventy now, but his face was the same cold, stony mask it had been in the past. Only his eyes seemed to smile when he said:

‘It’s been nice seeing you, _Fourteen’_.

He got his walking cane and white panama hat and left. Sam followed him with his eyes until he disappeared around a corner. Then, he walked up to where Ed and Flynn waited for him and they left the Mall.

 

***

 

Flynn had gone to bed a few hours ago, and the house was dark and silent. Ed had been skyping with Dr. Escobar for a long while, and had taken some of his old anxiety medication following her advice. He hadn’t told her what had happened that afternoon, only that he was upset and was having some symptoms of his post-traumatic stress disorder again. After going through the familiar techniques of his old cognitive therapy, Ed wished her a good night and switched his laptop off.

He found Sam in the porch. He hadn’t switched the lights on, so he was just a darker shadow among the shadows of their garden. A faint smell of bourbon reached Ed’s nostrils, and he sat down in silence on the bamboo armchair by his side. They stayed like that for long, long minutes, hearing the crickets and watching a few glowworms buzzing around.

‘You knew him’ Ed said ‘From before… _The Agency_ ’.

His voice sounded flat and neutral, with no hint of accusation or resentment in it. He just stated a fact, and Sam’s silence confirmed it.

‘Yeah’ he croaked after a while, and it was so unlike Sam to sound this… broken. Ed turned to face him in the darkness.

‘It was…’ he began, and stopped ‘I was…’ Sam let out a shaky sigh ‘I was a different person then’ he said after a pause ‘I was very young, and I was…’

Ed tried to reach out, but Sam refused his touch.

‘I was a junkie, Ed. That’s what I was’.

Ed froze in his armchair, and held his breath as Sam continued.

‘When I finished NursingSchool… They hired me as a surgeon’s assistant at St. Luke Medical Centre. The money was good, I loved my job but… The operations became longer and more complicated. I couldn’t focus, I started to makes mistakes but… There was a remedy for that. The doctors knew, the residents knew, everybody knew. The drugs were easy, you only needed a prescription. And the hospital’s pharmacy was open 24 hours, 365 days a year’.

Ed swallowed hard as Sam took a long pull at his bourbon.

‘I knew the right people, made the right friends. And when I was low on cash… Well, some of them actually preferred blowjobs over money. I… I was so hooked by then that I didn’t care. My ass was free as long as that meant I got the next fix’.

Sam paused again, and when he next spoke, his voice sounded thready.

‘He… came to St. Luke in the winter of 2002. It was a teaching hospital and he… He loved students. I had stolen quite a few things from the pharmacy and… altered the records but… it was dangerous. I needed legal prescriptions, with a new signature. So I went to Dr. Bradley’s office. He fucked me right there and then, and filled a bunch of prescriptions for me. They were new drugs I had never tried. Experimental drugs. At first they were cool, but then… I was clucking real bad’.

Sam shook his head as if trying to deny what was coming next, and Ed could hear the unshed tears in his voice.

‘Jeanine was… She was like me. A friend. A good friend. She always said the baby… She didn’t know who the father was, but I knew it was me. When she ODed I… They couldn’t save the baby. She was premature, she…’

Sam trailed off, and rubbed a few tears off with the sleeve of his shirt.

‘I talked to Dr. Bradley. I said I was leaving. I was living in his house then… I…  I…’ Sam looked at the shadow of Ed by his side ‘I was his fucktoy, Ed. And I didn’t care. But I wanted to leave… to detox, start from scratch. A clean slate. But he wouldn’t let me. I… He… He was involved with _The Agency_ already. I didn’t know it. If I had known… He sold students to them. His students. I left that night, with the clothes on my back. But he found me. And he sent them after me’.

Sam snorted softly.

‘You know, when I woke up on that gyno chair for the first time, I thought it was another of his kinky games. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t’.

Sam finished the bourbon and pressed the cool empty glass on his forehead.

‘I became a different kind of slave then. I was no longer a junkie but suddenly I had a Master. And then another. And another. But the worst of it all is that I survived because of _him_. Revenge was the only thing that kept me alive. Killing him… That gave me strength. It gave me a new purpose in life, kept me sane. And now... Now he's here and... You understand me, don't you, Ed?'

An ominous silence fell over the two of them. They remained like that for a long while, until at last Ed left his bamboo armchair and squeezed Sam's shoulder lightly, hoping it could convey what he didn’t dare to voice.

 

***

 

The Marriott Buenos Aires was a luxurious, expensive hotel, and the hall was lavishly decorated. Sam left the basket on the marble counter and waited for a young receptionist to address him.

‘A fruit basket for Dr. Bradley’.

Sam pulled the baseball cap over his face. He had stolen the uniform from a nearby flower shop a few hours ago.

‘That will be… Room 3177’.

‘Thank you’.

Sam entered the service elevator and walked down a carpeted corridor until he arrived at room 3177. He knocked softly and said:

‘Delivery for Dr. Bradley’.

The door opened and the old man frowned.

‘I haven’t…’

Sam had been covering his face with the fruit basket, and when he put it down, Dr. Bradley’s expression changed.

‘I was wondering when you’d show up’ he simply commented, and waved his hand for Sam to come in.

The room was an executive suite with an ample living room area overlooking the Avenida Alvear. Sam had short listed the most expensive hotels in the city, as he knew Dr. Bradley would not be in a typical two stars tourist accommodation. He had been to the Ritz and to the Plaza already. Third time’s the charm.

‘Well’ Dr. Bradley said as he sat down on the sofa with a grin ‘What can I do for you, _Fourteen_?’

‘My name’ came old, rebellious litany ‘is Sam Flynn’.

That made Dr. Bradley chuckle.

‘Oh, yes. You were always so proud of your name. You couldn’t resist naming your kid after it, could you?’

‘I left enough things behind me’ Sam said as he sat down on an armchair right in front of Dr. Bradley. He held his cold, ice blue gaze unflinchingly ‘I’d never renounce my name’.

‘Of course’ Dr. Bradley replied in a mocking tone ‘The Flynn’s is such a rich legacy. Did _Twelve_ also get your name when you got married?’

‘ED’ Sam gritted out ‘And we’re not married’.

‘You should have been in California a few years ago. You could have obtained a license. Taken Flynn to Disneyland’.

‘Fuck you’ Sam spat, but that only made Dr. Bradley smile.

‘Oh, yeah. “Fuck you”. I was touched that you wrote me that little note before you left. I still keep it, you know’.

Sam tensed when Dr. Bradley reached for his cane to stand up again.

‘Let me offer you a drink’ he said as he walked up to the liquor cabinet.  ‘For old time’s sake. It’s a pity I don’t have anything... stronger’.

Sam’s nostrils flared at that, but he kept his temper. Dr. Bradley put some ice cubes in two cut-glass tumblers and filled them generously.

‘Bourboun, right?’ Dr. Bradley offered him a glass and a cold smile ‘It always was your favourite’.

Sam held the tumbler for a second, circling the brim with his fingers. Then he looked at it suspiciously.

‘Give me yours’ he said, and the old man chuckled.

‘Still having trust issues?’ he taunted, but swapped his glass with Sam’s nonetheless. ‘There’s no poison in it, trust me. I never wanted to kill you. You, on the other hand’ Dr. Bradley sat down on the sofa again ‘have come to do just that. Haven't you?’

Sam made no reply. Dr. Bradley examined him for a long moment, then he shook his head.

‘No, I don’t think so. You won’t risk jail, not with a kid and a partner. Argentinian prisons are dreadful. You wouldn’t want to end up being the fucktoy of the inmates, would you?’ Dr. Bradley leaned forward and half-closed his eyes ‘Although we both know how much you’d enjoy that’.

Sam felt his face turning red in anger, and his hands began to shake. Dr. Bradley saw it and laughed.

‘Drink a bit’ he said taking a long pull at his bourbon ‘You need to relax, _Fourteen_ ’.

‘Stop calling me that’ he gritted out, and left his untouched drink on the table.

Dr. Bradley ignored him, and continued talking in a casually derisive manner.

‘I’ll tell you something, _Fourteen_. After you left, I kinda entertained the fantasy that one day you’d come back. To hunt us down. To dismantle _The Agency_ , to expose our dealings and bring us to justice... But then again, junkies will always be cowards’.

Sam clenched his teeth, feeling the prickle of tears at the memories. He stubbornly locked them all in a dark part of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

‘It was a pity you never showed up’ Dr. Bradley finished his drink ‘But in a way, I’m also grateful. After all, I owe what I am today to you’.

Sam’s confusion was evident on his face, and Dr. Bradley grinned.

‘You made me rich, _Fourteen_. After your escape with _Twelve_ , _The Agency_ restructured itself, and with a few... changes here and there, our sales skyrocketed in less than a year’.

Dr. Bradley licked his lips as a look of utter horror dawned on Sam’s face.

‘If only you could read some of the letters the new slaves sent me. They were so happy with their new training, and led such rich lives with their Masters. You can’t imagine the thousand of clients we made happy. The world is a better place now, _Fourteen_ , and--’.

Suddenly, Dr. Bradley’s hand began to shake. He frowned as the paralysis crept up his arm and gripped his chest. Alan looked at the tumbler and saw a white residue around the rim of the glass.

‘You-- You’ve come to kill me after all’.

Sam said nothing, only sat very quiet as Dr. Bradley tried to stand up and failed. The drug was swift, and the old man soon felt his limbs stiffening. He couldn’t move his legs, or his arms, or anything. He was well and truly paralyzed in less than a minute.

After a long moment, Sam left his armchair, noticing as Dr. Bradley’s eyes followed his every move. He walked up to the sofa, crouched down and unlaced Dr. Bradley’s left shoe. Then, he took his sock off and uncapped a syringe he produced from his pocket.

‘ _Fourteen_ ’ Dr. Bradley whispered as Sam parted his toes. Sam looked up, knowing full well his next words would be his last.

‘Fuck you’.

Sam held his cold, hard gaze for a second longer. Then he stuck the needle between his toes and pressed the plunger. Sam watched unblinkingly as Dr. Bradley died before him, with just a short gasp as his heart stopped.  Then he washed his glass of bourbon, dried it and carefully put it back in the liquor cabinet. He put Dr. Bradley’s sock and shoe back on and left a bottle of heart medication by his side.

And then he left. Without looking back.

 

 

***

 

When Sam got home that night, the house was unusually quiet.

‘Flynn?’ he asked as he rested his weight on the doorframe of the living room.

Ed was reading a book on the sofa, and he startled slightly as he heard Sam’s voice.

‘At Leandro’s house, for a sleepover. I called his parents when you left...’

Sam nodded. He wanted to say something. He needed to speak, to talk to Ed, to-- but suddenly his knees were giving way, and he collapsed on the floor without a word.

Ed was by his side in a second, and he said nothing, just held him tight, caressing and stroking his hair as Sam wept and trembled. On and on it went until Sam had no strength left to cry, and Ed took it all, soothing and caressing him as Sam had done for Ed so many years ago. After a while, Ed started to hum a song, and that made Sam smile despite himself.

‘ _My life seems unreal, my crime an illusion… A scene badly written in which I must play… Yet I know as I gaze at my young love beside me…. The morning is just a few hours away_ ’.

Sam looked into Ed’s eyes.

‘You know I don’t like Simon and Garfunkel’.

‘That’s because you’re tone deaf’.

Then Sam was hugging Ed fiercely, because despite his past, despite Janine and his daughter, despite Dr. Bradley and the deaths upon his conscience, Ed was here, holding him, forgiving him.

‘Let’s go to sleep, Sam’ Ed murmured with a kiss to his forehead.

Sam nodded and took Ed’s hand to help him to his feet. They lied down together in their bedroom, not even caring to take their clothes off. After a while, Sam relaxed and cuddled back to Ed, letting his body blanket him in a protective embrace. He was asleep within minutes.

 

***

 

TOURIST FOUND DEAD IN HOTEL ROOM

A 72 year old US citizen was found dead in his room at the Marriott Buenos Aires this morning, Rodrigo García informs. Dr. Alan Bradley, a well-known physician and researcher at the St. Luke Medical Centre in Los Angeles, was found dead this morning after he suffered a heart attack during the night according to the coroner. Dr. Bradley, who was on holidays visiting the city, was a successful surgeon who will be sorely missed by his colleagues and the many students he trained. Luckily, many of them are continuing his line of research at St. Luke Medical Centre, which has become a top research health facility that attracts over a hundred medical students and residents every year...


End file.
